Love is a Canceled Death Date

Love is a fully belly

on a night where I can't get myself to eat dinner

    or stay awake past when I should.

Love is a long walk

    through the snow, the rain, the hail and the sleet,

    or on an afternoon

        when I'd rather just disappear.

Love is a canceled death date.

Love is a missed opportunity

because you threw up for the first time

and I won't just leave you all alone.

Love is a winter jacket for a towel

    though I have to wear it again

    when it's time to go home through the rain.

Love is a shared bed,

and the stained sheets

    from all the time spent lying in my place.

Love is a room I can't call home

and chose to give to you instead.

Love is a canceled death date.

Love is giving in to my fears

because they're after you this time

    and I don't care about myself

        the way I care about you.

Love is the trust that you'll still be there

when I lash out.

Love is regret.

Love is guilt.

Love is an apology

    because it was never your fault.

Love is a promise to be better,

    a promise to change,

        a promise kept.

Love is a canceled death date.